The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

"Ah, ah. See," and Klitonda stretched out his arm to the left as he spoke, "all this land belonged to the Ayana people. They hunted and trapped in the forest, and fished in the streams as did their fathers before them. They were strong, and their warriors feared no foe. But the Chilcats beat them in a great battle, and the hearts of the Ayana became weak. They run away; they hide in the woods, and mountains. They hear the wolves of the coast coming, and they tremble. They trade their furs and get little or nothing for them. The Chilcats steal the wives and daughters of the Ayana. They tried to steal Owindia. Klota fought them, and she died. Klitonda came suddenly from the forest. He killed one Chilcat, and the other escaped."

The chief had risen to his feet, and was standing erect as he uttered these words. The memory of that outrage was stirring his soul. His eyes glowed, and his hands were hard-clenched by his side. Natsatt had caught Klitonda's spirit. His heart beat in sympathy with the Indian's.

"And are the Chilcats such wolves?" he demanded.

"Ah, ah, much worse," the chief replied. "Wolves are sometimes satisfied, but the Chilcats never. They are always hunting Klitonda. They never stop. They would kill him, and steal Owindia. The son of the Chilcat chief wants her. She is never safe."

Natsatt's heart now beat faster than ever, and he glanced toward Owindia sitting quietly before him. She had been looking full into his face as he talked with her father. She was leaning somewhat forward, her eyes sparkling with animation, with her lips slightly parted. She had been drinking in every word that had been said about the great world of the white race. Her eyes dropped as they encountered those of the young man, and a flush mantled her cheeks. Into Natsatt's heart shot a sudden feeling of dread. He understood why the son of the Chilcat chief should seek to obtain this maiden. Such beauty of features, and perfection of form would be fatal gifts even in the world of civilisation. But here in the wilderness where might was right, how hardly could she escape. The thought of her danger grew stronger upon him. But what could he do to save her? He must make an effort at any rate. He must not lose her now. And yet his own position was as precarious as hers. If the Chilcats were as ferocious as Klitonda had described they would not long endure the presence of the white traders in the country. Even now, no doubt, they knew about the Post, and were planning for its speedy destruction. It would therefore be necessary for him to leave Owindia, hurry down the river, and warn his companions of the danger to which they were exposed. But how could he go away from this maiden, who all unconsciously was exerting such a strong influence upon his restless spirit? So impetuous was his nature that he did not stop to consider what Owindia's feelings might be toward him. He thought merely of his own happiness and what it meant to be near her, and to look upon her face. In her presence there was fulness of life, such as he had never known before. And to think that she was in danger from the Chilcats! A flood of anger suddenly rushed upon him. Why did the Ayana allow such tyrants to oppress them? They were strong enough to hurl back the invaders, and why did they not do it?

"Have the Ayana no hearts?" he asked, turning toward Klitonda. "Can nothing be done to arouse them to fight the Chilcats, and to drive them back?"

"Nothing," was the sad reply. "Klitonda has gone from camp to camp, and has said much. The Ayana talk, but do nothing."

"Are they all weak-hearted?" Natsatt demanded. "Are there none who will stand by their chief?"

"There are some who are not cowards, but they are only a few. They would follow Klitonda to the death if he called them."

Thus Natsatt learned that little help could be expected from the Ayana Indians. The white traders had come into the country, and were they to be driven back, probably killed, when spring came? No, such a thing must not happen. As soon as the storm abated he would hurry back to the Post. It would be necessary for him to leave Owindia for a while. To remain would be worse than useless.